


Be kind, be sweet, be gentle

by Roselyn



Series: Be kind, be sweet, be gentle [1]
Category: A Cure For Wellness (2016)
Genre: Age Difference, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fingerfucking, Foreplay, French Kissing, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Incest, Kissing, Light Sadism, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Power Play, Rough Kissing, Sadism, Slow Burn, Tie Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselyn/pseuds/Roselyn
Summary: You know what this is about, it doesn't need a summary.(or I'll update one later)
Relationships: Dr. Volmer/Hannah
Series: Be kind, be sweet, be gentle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899361
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	Be kind, be sweet, be gentle

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the first chapter of the re-written story. Enjoy.  
> I update this when I feel like updating.  
> I take no requests or prompts. 
> 
> If I grow tired of this, I have a friend who might take over.  
> We'll see.

Hannah dreams.

Her feet are moving with soft jerks, much a like a dog’s, tangled to the blanket.

The room is dark, for the slim form of a moon outside her window, its pale light creeping in between the curtains.

In her dream Hannah is younger. How much younger, she cannot tell. Time is an unspecific substance, here at the sanitarium. It never moves, but stands still, occasionally managing to slip by in a blur. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months. Months turn as countless years, spent within the walls, walking in the gardens or sitting in Dr. Volmer’s office, watching him work.

Only the people tell the flow of time. They never stay for long, but they do not leave, either.

In her dream Hannah does not care about time. She stands upon the wall, facing towards the woods. She can see far from her spot, over the treetops and fields. Perhaps if she tried hard enough, she could see the small village in the distance. She has never visited it, but would very much like to. Perhaps, when her father would finally come for her. . .

There is a sound in the darkness and Hannah stirs awake.

It sounded like a door, but there’s no one in her room. It must have been a dream, nothing more. No one has ever disturbed her sleep. . .

On the next day, Hannah makes her way to the spot she dreamt about. The day is windy, making the hem of her dress the flap.

It is also cloudy.

Hannah thinks it might rain soon.

A deer crosses the road down below. Hannah likes deer, but she has never seen one up close. Not other animals, either. The sanitarium is her home, as much as it is her prison. . .

She can feel someone watching and sees Dr. Volmer approach with haste steps, almost jogging. He doesn’t look happy.

“Hannah, get down from there!” His voice his worried, slightly angry. Laced with just a hint of panic.

Hannah obeys. She jumps down from the wall, bare foot and taking support from the wall. It scrapes her hand. Her finger starts to bleed. She missteps while landing and slightly twists her ankle. The pain is enough to make her lose balance.

Dr. Volmer is on her on an instant. “Hannah! Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

She shakes her head, not looking at the doctor in the eye. She can feel it, the pressuring gaze of his blue eyes. So sharp.

“A little,” she then admits, nursing her injured hand. It starts to rain.

“What were you thinking, Hannah?” the doctor asks, cupping her chin. He forces her to look at him, to meet those sharp blue eyes that see everything. “I have told you a thousand times before; do not stand on the walls. What if you should fall? You could die Hannah. Do you understand that? You could _die_!” Dr. Volmer does not raise his voice, he never does. Yet she can tell he’s angry with her, worried.

Hannah understands. She’s on his responsibility, till her father comes for her.

She wonders when it’ll happen. It feels like she’s been here forever.

“I am sorry,” she whispers, still trying to avoid Dr. Volmer’s gaze. 

He sighs, heavily, frustrated. “Can you stand, Hannah?”

She tries. The foot doesn’t take weight on very well.

Volmer is quick to notice it. “I’ll carry you,” he tells and picks her up. Her legs wrap around his waist, her chin finds a comfortable place on his shoulder. His cheek feels warm against her own. The rain has made Dr. Volmer’s hair slightly wet. The droplets looks like shiny pearl in his dark hair.

He takes her into an archway, a partly hidden hallway that shelters them from the rain. He presses her back against a wall over the stony bench. He looks at her, his eyes are dark, pained. He’s breathing fast. So very fast. . .

Hannah hopes she wasn’t too heavy.

Dr. Volmer lowers her slowly down, sliding her along the wall. Carefully, almost if afraid to let go, least she should still fall and hurt herself. Hannah realizes she has to help him, and so she unlocks her legs from his waist. His fine shirt gets wrinkled between her slender fingers.

“You made me worry, Hannah,” the doctor tells, studying her face.

Hannah believes him. Why otherwise would he look that way?

Dr. Volmer takes a couple of breaths, collecting himself, before taking a seat by her side. “Let me see,” he then says, taking her hand. He inspects the bleeding scratch on her finger.

“You hurt yourself,” he observes, frowning. He rubs her hand and plants a kiss on the scratch. His lips are soft, so very warm.

“I want you to be more careful, Hannah,” he tells, serious, gentle. “I care about you.”

Hannah knows. Dr. Volmer is always very caring, always making sure she’s well, always touching her. . .

Hannah isn’t certain if she likes it.

“Let me see your ankle,” he then says.

“It is fine. . .”

“Let me see it,” Volmer says again, more firmly.

Hannah obeys. She raises her legs on the bench, facing Volmer. He takes her foot on his lap. He pushes the hem of her dress slightly higher, before starting to inspect her twisted ankle.

His fingers are warm on her skin, firm but gentle. Very caring.

“You should rest the foot for a while,” Volmer tells her, placing his hand on her knee. His thumb rubs the tender skin in slow circles. He looks sad, almost longing. His blue eyes are filled with pain.

Hannah feels strange. She shifts, starting to lower her feet.

Volmer draws breath, grabbing her foot. He breathes a little faster, more shallowly. His brows mold into a sad pained frown.

“Let me. . . let me take care of you, Hannah,” he breathes, starting to rub her foot. His hands are shaking as he corrects his posture, pulling her foot further in his lap, holding it tightly down.

His lap feels very warm against her naked foot, his hands too.

Volmer runs his fingers along her instep, the ball of her foot. His thumb brushes her toes before he begins his way up, towards her ankle.

Hannah shivers. Dr. Volmer’s touch doesn’t tickle her. It doesn’t hurt, either. Yet, it feels funny.

It makes her feel funny, somewhere, deep inside.

Hannah isn’t sure if she likes the new feeling. It makes her nervous, guilty —Like she would be in trouble. But she isn’t, is she? She hasn’t done anything wrong. Except climbing on the wall. . .

Hannah is ashamed. She shouldn’t cause Dr. Volmer any extra worries. He’s terribly busy already, taking care of the entire sanitarium. . .

His hands creep up her ankle, massaging, gentle. His fingers are warm on her pale skin.

The heel of her foot rest pressed against his hip, close to his crotch. Her toes brush his lower belly briefly.

Hannah doesn’t like Volmer’s touch anymore. It feels like he’s holding her for too long. Too close.

“I-I think I’m fine now,” Hannah whispers, pulling away.

Volmer’s fingers tighten around her ankle, but just for a moment, before he lets her go. He’s still breathing fast.

“I. . . I will go now,” Hannah tells, rising from the bench.

“Hannah. . .” Volmer calls after her. He swallows the rest of the words, gasping, rising a hand to his stomach.

Hannah stills. She doesn’t want to leave anymore. Not if. . . not if Dr. Volmer is sick. He shouldn’t be alone, if he isn’t feeling well.

Hannah cares about him, despite. . . Despite things. 

“Are you all right?” she asks, worried, making her way back to the bench. 

Volmer attempts a smile. It’s a pained one. “It’s just my condition, Hannah.”

“Your condition?” Hannah asks silently. She did not know Dr. Volmer also had a condition.

“Sometimes I have pains,” he tells her, looking sad. “Sometimes I’m afraid I will die. . .”

Hannah’s sorry for him. She doesn’t want anyone to be in pain.

“Can I help?”

Dr. Volmer looks at her for a while in silence, his lips part.

“Could you?” He asks, taking a couple of fastened breaths.

Hannah nods. Volmer is her doctor; she doesn’t want him to be in pain.

“Yes.”

Volmer hesitates and takes her hand. He brings it slowly to his middle, holding it there, pressing it softly against his body.

“Just. . . rub me, Hannah. Make the pain go away.”

Hannah does, shyly. It feels strange, to touch him like this. But Dr. Volmer looks better. If she’s helping him, it must be good.

She rubs his belly with slow circular motion, watching Dr. Volmer’s eyes go half closed. He leans against the wall, breathing deeply.

“You’re good at this, Hannah,” he tells, lips curving up. “Very good. No one has been able to help me before. . . but you can.” He turns to look at her, smiling. “Perhaps you are the only one who does it right.”

Hannah smiles shyly back, blushing. She adds a little bit of pressure. It still feels a little strange to touch him. Strange, but good. His abs feel tense under her fingertips. It also feels good. Different good.

Volmer closes his eyes, resting his back against the wall. He seems to have calmed down.

Hannah is pleased. She’s glad she was able to help him.

She rubs him a moment longer, till Volmer stops her hand, pressing it tightly against his middle.

Hannah’s heart beats a little faster. She feels funny. Somehow, edgy. It feels. . . nice, to be close to him. To touch him like this. Maybe Volmer likes to touch her, because it makes him feel funny, too.

Dr. Volmer does not open his eyes, while he speaks. He breathes slowly, shallowly. There’s a light frown at his brow. “Would you help me again, Hannah? With my pains?”

Hannah hesitates, but nods. Volmer is her doctor, her kind, caring doctor. She doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable. After all, Hannah’s caring too.

Volmer’s lips stretch into a soft smirk. He appears to be feeling better.

“I want you to come to the cellars with me, Hannah. There’s a room there; a room where you could treat me properly. Would you do that, for me?” 

Again, Hannah nods. She hasn’t been in the cellars before. Dr. Volmer has never let her.

He rises, taking her hand, leading her out of the gardens and into the cellars. The air is cool down there. There are vials at the tables, also things that have been covered by fabrics. Hannah pays them no mind.

She looks at pillar bed instead. It looks old. So very fine. . .

Volmer stops, looking at her. There’s a serious expression written on his face. His eyes are bright, moist.

He swallows, cupping her cheek with a slightly trebling hand.

“You have to tie my hands, Hannah. Sometimes. . . sometimes I spasm, when the pains get bad enough. You have to restrain me, so I won’t. . .” his words trail off. His eyes burn blue and bright. “Please. . .”

“Very well,” Hannah whispers, watching Dr. Volmer to get on the bed.

She crawls awkwardly next to him, tying his hands to the pillars with rags Volmer pointed out to her.

He gasps silently as the fabric tightens around his wrists. He looks sad but happy at the same time. His mouth smiles, but his eyes are moist. He’s breathing fast, nearly panting.

“Oh be kind to me, Hannah. . .” he breathes, squirming slightly. “Be sweet. . . be gentle. . .”


End file.
